Occlumency Can Get Awkward
by ZombieBunny19
Summary: This is a Snape x Harry one shot I whipped up last night. I left it open to do a part two, if you guys like it though! So be sure to let me know how you guys like it. This is the story of what happens when Harry goes digging around in Snape's mind during a lesson, and he finds far more than he bargained for.


Silence floated through the Hogwarts halls, hung heavy like mist in the midnight air, and the moonlight filtered through the windows. It splashed across the unforgiving stone floors like puddles of unicorn's blood, shimmering and shifting with every soft step that Harry took across the floor.

Harry ran a hand through his mess of ink black hair as he tried to quell the apprehension that boiled low in the pit of his stomach. The Boy Who Lived had quickly learned to dread his weekly Occlumency training with Snape, not that he had really ever looked forward to it in the first place. It had proven to be more hellish than he could have ever imagined.

All the young man wanted was to impress the implacable Potions professor, yet Snape seemed determined to break down his every wall and beat every ounce of will out of his lithe body. Harry was made to feel like nothing by the man.

Harry thought to himself as he neared the door of the closet where his lessons were held.

But Potter knew he was lying to himself. The Potions master was a curiosity to him, a magnetic force that he could not fight. Like a ghost, remaining shrouded in shadow and locked in mystery. He knew so little of the man's life. That mystery and aloofness drew Harry in like a moth to a flame. And maybe… deep down… he liked feeling small.

Hell, Harry had been made to feel small all of his life! Being abused, wronged, looked down on… it felt safe. In this world he was seen as a savior or an oddity, and while it was refreshing it wasn't home. Or maybe, the draw came from man's natural desire to convert an enemy into a friend… Whatever the case might have been, the result was the same: Harry Potter was desperate to get the approval and attention of the Professor.

One of his thin hands reached out for the silver doorknob. He twisted it gently to the right, and opened the heavy oak door, to reveal the small chamber where their lessons were held. Snape stood behind the chair, his black eyes fixed upon the teen as he entered the room.

"Hello, Mr. Potter." Snape greeted coolly. There was a measured distaste in his deep baritone voice. The man was as perfectly reserved as ever. Harry felt a hint of his hope for some approval from the man dissipate.

"Hello, Professor." Harry replied. He was sure to keep his tone completely neutral. Anything else would be a sign of weakness.

Snape gestured for Harry to sit upon the wooden chair in front of him "I am sure you know how this is done by now, Mr. Potter."

"Yes, sir." Harry replied as he took his seat.

Harry soon felt the coldness of Snape's fingers resting against his temples. The calloused fingers were pressed so lightly to Harry's skin that they seemed the weight of a butterfly's wing.

"Now. Close your eyes, and focus on your walls. Do not let me in."

"Yes, sir."

The training went on and on for hours, and the longer they went the more discouraged and angry Harry became. How could he be so bad at this? Was he so distracted by the desire to please the man that he could not focus on the walls? Perhaps… But whatever it was, it seemed to aggravate the hell out of the Professor. Every magical attack seemed more forceful than the last, like a pickaxe being driven through his subconscious. It had been hours. Finally, Harry simply snapped.

His emerald eyes flashed open, and he jerked up out of the seat, away from Snape's deceptively cool fingertips. Harry's skin was sweaty, his hair damp, and his every muscle coiled tight.

"Potter? What on earth are you…" Snape's indignated cry ceased, as Harry drove himself deeply into the mind of the older man. The first thing he came across, was a fantasy, buried deep within the man's mind

Harry jerked away from his teacher as they imagined versions of themselves found climax. His chest was heaving, his cheeks were red, and Harry's cock was straining again his trousers. Snape was looking at him, absolutely horrified "How DARE you, Potter?!"

But Harry was already running. He bolted out of the private little chamber, and high tailed it back to his chambers. What the fuck was he supposed to make of that? Snape had imagined fucking him… and what was more, Harry had LOVED it. The world was spinning by the time he got to the dormitories. He had to consult Ron and Hermione tomorrow… maybe they would be able to figure out how to handle this information.


End file.
